Monthly Prompt Challenge: January
by Wolfsbane10.14.10
Summary: This is a collection of unrelated one-shots in answer to NeonDomino's 2016 Monthly Prompt List Challenge. Characters/genre/rating will vary between chapters. Specifics will be stated at the beginning of each chapter. Rated T currently, but subject to change as inspiration strikes... As always, Read, Review, and Enjoy!
1. Shoes to Fill

**AN: Hey all! This will be a series of entirely random, completely unrelated one-shots in response to NeonDomino's 2016 Monthly Prompt List Challenge: January.**

 **In an effort to combat writer's block and explore new territory, I will touch on pairings I never thought to write about and scenarios I otherwise wouldn't have wanted to write about. At the beginning of each chapter, I will list the prompt and the pairing/characters, genre, and rating I used to answer it. Unless otherwise explicitly stated, these will be [short] one-shots that I have no intention of pursuing into a full-fledged story. If a chapter strikes your fancy and ignites an idea in you that you want to pursue into a story, just let me know and I will happily let you take these half-formed ideas and run with them (just let me know so I can later stalk your story if you decide to post it!).**

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 **Prompt:** **[Quote] "She looks like a librarian!"/"Your kind of librarian or my kind of librarian?"/"Well, she was wearing clothes if that's what you mean!" ~ Supernatural**

 **Characters: Lily Luna Potter, Scorpius Malfoy**

 **Genre: Friendship/romance**

 **Rating: K+**

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 **Shoes to Fill**

Lily hunched over her work, staring determinedly at the textbook she was supposed to be reading. Unfortunately for her, her mind was a million miles away; fantasizing about a place in which she wasn't the daughter of the most famous wizard alive. Not that she didn't love her father dearly, but she couldn't escape the hope of a simpler life.

It wasn't fair. Harry James Potter hadn't much of a chance at a normal life. He'd saved the world at such a young age, and then had grown up in the shadow of his accomplishments as a baby. He had a target on his back his whole life. He'd cried and bled and sacrificed everything so she could have the perfect life. They learned about it all in class. Her father was a hero to the world.

She wished he could be a hero to only her.

Lily Luna Potter loved her father dearly. In truth, he was her hero in ways that had nothing to do with how he'd saved the world. He taught her how to ride a broom; how to punch a boy who'd insulted her; how to laugh; how to cry. She loved him with every piece of her heart. She just wished he wasn't so notorious. Everywhere they went, people wanted his autograph. The press followed her around constantly, cameras always flashing in her face no matter what her parents tried to do about it. She'd had articles printed about her even before she got to Hogwarts.

Would she be like her mother?

Would she be a trouble maker like her father?

Would she live up to Lily Evans, a grandmother she'd never met and whose name she bore?

Would it be possible for her to distinguish herself with such a rich and famous family tree?

Lily Potter didn't want to be distinguished. She just wanted to be herself. To live her life without constantly being compared to people who'd come before her. Was it truly so much to ask? None of her siblings seemed to mind the extra attention. Albus constantly preened, finding no difficulty living up to the names Harry had given him. Albus Severus Potter was as brilliant as brilliant could be, and on track to outshine even Rose Weasley for brains.

 _What is wrong with me?_ She hated studying. She wanted nothing more than to be out on the Quidditch pitch or out flying over the Forbidden Forest. But she had to study. Had to keep up with the expectations people had of her. She couldn't disappoint her family. She couldn't shame her father by breaking every rule in the book or flunking out.

Sniggering from behind her drew Lily from her melancholy thoughts. She didn't look up from her books, though she turned her attention to the masculine laughter. Who were they making fun of today?

"She looks like a librarian!" One of them—was it Elliot Hoesteller?—laughed.

"Your kind of librarian or my kind of librarian?" Definitely Elliot if Scorpius Malfoy was involved. Those two were practically joined at the hip. Lily heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. They were making fun of her undoubtedly.

"Well she was wearing clothes if that's what you mean!" Elliot cackled. "Definitely yours, mate!"

"Don't be so sure." Scorpius boasted. The pair made their way through the library. Lily was able to see them through her bangs. They weren't looking her way at all. Perhaps they hadn't noticed her sitting here alone. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid. Maybe such a paranoia about Malfoys was inheritable. She knew her father's track record very well.

"So." She jumped, startled to find Scorpius Malfoy leaning against her table.

"Hi?" Lily blinked a few times, confused. Elliot was nowhere to be seen.

"Why are you always alone?"

"Really Malfoy?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm studying."

"Sounds boring." He settled into the chair opposite her, blue eyes intense.

"A bit." Lily allowed, looking back to the textbook she'd been dreaming over. She didn't even remember what subject it was.

"Why do you waste your time with it?" Scorpius wondered.

"I like passing classes, Malfoy."

"That's not what I meant." He shook his head slightly. "Why waste your time trying to live up to your parents and grandparents? Seems like an awful lot of pointless effort."

"You wouldn't understand." Lily said coolly. "My parents saved the world."

"And mine tried to destroy it." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'm told often enough. Believe me, I have the speech memorized."

"We have an agreement, you and I." She reminded him, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together under her chin. "Or have you forgotten that we're supposed to pretend the other doesn't exist? You made that deal with James first, and it applies to anyone with the last name of Potter and Weasley. Malfoy."

"But why?" Scorpius leaned forward as well, eyes glittering. "I'm not brainwashed like my father. I've no quarrel with muggle borns. Just because our parents hate each other doesn't mean we're destined to do the same."

"Doesn't it?"

"Not at all, dear girl."

"I still don't like you." Lily said flatly, shaking her head.

"I don't care." Scorpius said simply. She stared at him, shocked nearly speechless. She blinked a few times, waiting for him to take it back or change his words. "I don't care." He repeated.

"Am I to automatically like you now?" She snorted.

"No, but you will go flying with me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I've seen you down at the pitch plenty of times after hours." Scorpius informed her tartly. "I know you love flying, and I can't get anyone to go with me. Elliot is too busy chasing after his librarian girl to care, and so few will even speak to me."

"So you'll amend that by using my name to buy your favor?" Lily nearly laughed at him. "Believe me, Malfoy, I've had plenty of people trying to befriend me for no better reason than my last name being 'Potter' to be able to spot it from a mile off. Not that I'm not flattered, but you're not fooling me."

"Forget last names." He pressed. "Haven't you ever wished you were born to nobody? Does it never get tiresome to have your family's legacy hanging over you?" Lily didn't trust herself to answer. "Just fly with me. You look like you could use a break anyway."

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"Who's the girl Elliot was talking about?"

"Rose Weasley." Scorpius smirked. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"Indeed he doesn't." Lily laughed, rising without another thought. What did it matter if tomorrow's headline in the Prophet was all about her going out to the Quidditch pitch with Scorpius Malfoy? It wasn't like taking a few laps around the field was automatically a date. And hell, she might have even said yes if he wanted it to be one. Her parents had rammed unity into her head so much that it would almost be perfect to start dating Scorpius Malfoy.

Lily couldn't help but smirk as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. She could do much worse, at least in the looks department. Perhaps she'd even try to woo him into asking her out. Play hard to get so he thought it was all his idea. There were worse forms of amusement.


	2. Old-fashioned

**Prompt:** **[Quote] "Every fairy-tale needs a good old-fashioned villain" ~ Sherlock**

 **Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy (NOT Dramione)**

 **Genre: Humor (sort of), friendship (kind of)**

 **Rated: K+**

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 **Old-fashioned**

 _Once upon a time._ The line was nearly enough to make her chuck the offending book across the room. She never bothered to continue reading once she hit upon the line " _once upon a time."_ Fairy-tales were all well and good, but at some point, a person just outgrew them.

Or so she'd always thought.

Hermione thought about the last eight years, staring up at the rich blueness of the sky above her. _Once upon a time, there was a young girl with an odd name. She had odd habits and an odd upbringing. One day, an old man with a long, white beard came to her door with some odd news. The little girl was to attend an odd school of magic and learn wizardry. How odd it seemed to the family that magic might be real. The little girl had the oddest streak of luck to go months without friends and then befriend two such odd boys seemingly overnight. And such odd adventures the unlikely trio could find themselves in._

Hermione blew out her breath. "How odd." She muttered aloud.

"It is odd." An unexpected voice stated. She started, flying to her feet with her wand drawn. "To see one of the Golden Trio without the other two." Draco Malfoy continued, unfazed by her reaction. "Finally get tired of their idiocy and off them yourself, Granger?"

"Of course not." She snapped, dropping her arm to her side.

"It's amazing what they've done, don't you think." He continued, oblivious to her confusion. His gaze swung to the castle behind them, newly refurbished and re-opened. "You can hardly tell it was so badly…" Malfoy trailed off, suddenly seeming to realize who he was speaking to. "I'm sorry, Granger."

"For what?" She asked, arching a quizzical brow at him.

"Everything." His grin was wry. "From the buck-tooth comments first year to being a prat all the others. From doing nothing when you were being tortured to being too much of a coward to refuse an ideology that had been imprinted on me since I was a kid."

"That's a lot to apologize for." She said coolly.

"Indeed."

"Why now?"

"Because I don't doubt I'll never see you away from Potter and Weasel again." Malfoy told her with a laugh. "And hell will freeze over before I apologize to either of them. Mark my words, they will die of old age without ever knowing I learned to say 'I'm sorry'."

"And if I tell them?" Hermione wondered, biting back a grin of her own.

"They won't believe you." He said without a beat of hesitation. "They'll think I performed some dark magic on you to make you think I said nice things."

"Harry testified at your hearing." She reminded him.

"I'm aware." Malfoy sighed. "Bleeder that he is."

"You don't seem pleased."

"I don't like owing people I don't like." He fixed her with a hard look. "I still don't much care for you, Granger."

"The feeling is mutual, Malfoy."

"I heard you'll be working at the Ministry."

"You heard correctly." She crossed her arms. "You'll be there, too, I presume. No censure for the wicked." Much to her surprised, Malfoy chuckled. "I heard you're getting married in a few weeks."

"Indeed I am. Must pass along my incredible breeding to the next unfortunate generation. Did Weasel propose yet?"

"Last week." Her mouth quirked in a smile of happiness despite her best effort. She couldn't help but smile when she thought of Ron's proposal.

"So you'll go right on living the fairy-tale life, Gryffin-dork."

"Hey now." Hermione protested. "If you look at things objectively, our lives haven't been a fairy-tale."

"No, if you look at it objectively, it's been exactly that." Malfoy argued, shifting his weight slightly. "Fairy-tales aren't pretty stories, you know. Sure the main characters get their happily ever after, but there's a lot of struggling and suffering in the middle, right? Surely muggles haven't destroyed that, too!"

"If you say so." Hermione muttered dubiously.

"You lot got your happily ever after. Potter's boning Weasel-bee's sister and you've got your man—though all things considered, you could do much better, Granger."

"Shut up."

"It's a fairy-tale." Malfoy grinned, eyes dancing with mischief.

"So what's your role in it?" She demanded, crossing her arms.

"Every fairy-tale needs a good old-fashioned villain." He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to disagree. "Don't you agree?"

"I believe that was Voldemort, Malfoy."

"No, no Granger, that's much too obvious. I'm talking the good, old-fashioned sort that never really goes away. The one that the protagonist can't really be rid of for whatever moral scruples you lot have to juggle. Me? I'm not a good man, and I never plan to be."

"Yet still you apologized to me."

"I watched my aunt torture you on my living room floor." Malfoy said flatly. "It's the least I can do, especially since I won't do anything else."

"Hm." Her arm burned with the reminder of what Bellatrix Lestrange had done to her. Hermione spent a moment glaring at him, thinking of ulterior motives he might have for this conversation. "Draco Malfoy. The villain."

"I'll make your life at the Ministry hell, Granger." He promised. "Just you wait and see."

"I look forward to doing the same to you, Malfoy."

"See you at work then." Malfoy flashed one last smirk at her before turning to stroll off. Hermione rolled her eyes at his back, looking towards the castle. Three figures approached her; two arm-in-arm and two with flaming red hair. Hermione grinned, abandoning her spot by the Great Lake to join her friends and fiancé.

Could it be so simple? She tilted her head back to receive Ron's kiss.

 _And so we lived happily ever after…_

It wouldn't be so simple. Nothing ever was. They would have their fights and disagreements. They'd have Sunday dinners with his family and all the extended pieces of it. They'd continue to struggle through depression and survivor's guilt. They'd deal with the unpleasant parts of work and complain about co-workers. But they wouldn't have to do it alone. They'd always have each other, and that, indeed, was the makings of a real-life happily ever after.


	3. From The Very Beginning

**Prompt:** **[Scenario] I've never actually talked to you, but I had a dream we were in a relationship and now I have a crush on you**

 **Characters: James Potter writing to Lily Evans**

 **Genre: the budding beginning of romance**

 **Rated: K**

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 **From The Very Beginning**

 _Dear Lily,_

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts. I know this because we share every class. I see you every day. You're always smiling. Always laughing at something your friends are saying to you. It never ceases to amaze me how easily laughter comes to you; how brightly your eyes sparkle when you laugh._

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts. I know this because you're in my house. The mighty house of Gryffindor, or so my dad always calls it. My friends roll their eyes whenever I try to call Gryffindor mighty. But truly, he was a great man. I've read plenty of books about the founders. They were all mighty, I think. I wonder sometimes how you might react to my calling the house of Gryffindor mighty. Will you, too, roll your eyes at me like I'm little more than a child? Or will you laugh your bright, pretty laugh and think me witty. My ego would like you to think me witty. I think you'll laugh at me, not with me. But perhaps that's just experience talking._

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts. I know this because I remember the day you were sorted. I was behind you in line, and I was mad because you were taller than me and I couldn't see anything. I was happy when you went up to be sorted because then I could see. I'll never mistake your hair for another's. Also, I'm taller than you now. So there._

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts, and yet we've never once spoken. How can this be? You've spoken to my mates before. I think I've even been present when you're talking to them. But never have I bothered to open my mouth to speak. Why is that? You're a beautiful girl. Charming and witty and full of laughter. I think you'd like me if you only knew me. You've laughed at my pranks before. I've planned a dozen more just to see you laugh again._

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts, and I've never spoken to you. Yet I dreamed of you last night. A wonderful, crazy dream in which we did little more than walk laps around the Great Lake. We spoke of all sorts of crazy things. Our hopes and dreams. I told you things I've never dared to tell anyone before. I knew you would keep my secrets for me, just I will keep the secrets you told to me hidden from the world. We talked. We laughed. We cried. And at the end of it, I kissed you. It was just a simple kiss. Something fleeting. Anything more than that wasn't necessary, because I knew you already were mine. Our hearts beat as one._

 _You're in my year at Hogwarts. I've never actually talked to you, but I had a dream we were in a relationship and now I have a crush on you. I just thought you should know._

 _\- James Potter_


	4. A Hippogriff's Fury

**Prompt: [Quote] "It's a big rock. I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big." ~ Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

 **Characters: Buckbeak**

 **Genre: Humor/excessively random**

 **Rated: K**

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 **A Hippogriff's Fury**

He trotted through the forest; tail flagged and neck arched with pride. It was a good day to be alive. The sun was warm against his flank; the sky was bright and clear. Perfect weather for hunting, as he had found earlier. Breakfast was still warm and full in his belly. Yes, it was a very good day to be alive.

Buckbeak floated across the forest floor, unconcerned with any sort of abstract notion. He was unlike the centaurs, spending their time endlessly staring towards the stars. Why must they stare so when they were not prey to hippogriffs? They did not have airborne predators. Their habits were nonsense and maddening. Perhaps he would give them something to worry about. His feathers rose with the idea of the hunt. He slowed, straying to a halt while he contemplated the taste of centaur. But they had their flying claws… He shook himself all over, unwilling to risk the safety of his wings. But even still, the taste was so _novel_. What would it be?

He caught sight of an amazing thing from the corner of his eye, whipping around and completely diverted.

"It's a big rock!" He cried, delighted, bounding towards the stone. He snuffled all around it, trembling with excitement. "I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big!" Buckbeak squealed with excitement.

Now to get this lovely rock back to the aerie. He rose up on his haunches, grabbing onto the stone with his foreclaws. He thrust off from the ground, sweeping his wings down to aid his jump. He flipped right over the top of the boulder, landing gracelessly on his back. Buckbeak flailed, limbs flying in every direction to righten himself.

He pranced away from the stone, huffing loudly. Had anyone seen? How embarrassing was that?

The forest around him was silent. No witnesses. Buckbeak debated the boulder from several yards away. It _was_ a big rock. He wanted to show it off. With a snort, he approached it again, trotting around it three times before rearing up to latch onto it again. This time, he was better prepared for the weight of the stone. He jumped more over the stone, wings beating furiously. Dirt and dust flew up around him, coating his feathers and fur. How gross.

The boulder didn't budge.

Buckbeak shrieked at it in rage, offended by the stone's stubbornness. He tried twice more, straining each muscle in his body in an effort to lift the rock. It never once even shifted.

He clicked his beak together, every feather erect. He huffed loudly, whirling around to look for someone to share his fury. The forest around him was empty. He stormed away from the stone in a huff, breaking into a gallop.

Who needed a stupid stone anyway?


	5. Pride and Paranoia

**Prompt: [AU] Homeless**

 **Character: Draco Malfoy/OC**

 **Genre: I really have no idea...we'll call it "random"**

 **Rated: K**

 **AN: Year and years ago, I was going to base a Dramione fic on a premise very similar to this. First section of the story is more or less a copy and paste from my vault of half-finished fanfics that will never see the light of day. Second section used to be Hermione's POV, but was completely rewritten for this (no longer a Dramione, unless you want to fantasize about her being in disguse and having issues). Thought about keeping it Dramione, but got rid of that in an effort to keep myself contained to a one-shot :) ...OC is not based on me or anyone I know.**

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 **Pride and Paranoia**

 _Humiliation. Boredom. Hunger._ All were integral part of him. Draco Malfoy, prince of Slytherin house, muggle hating pureblood snob, was currently wandering aimlessly down a purely muggle street looking rather pathetic in clothes that had definitely seen better days. Unlike his father, Draco at least knew what muggles were supposed to look like—ratty t-shirts, jeans with holes, and scruffy sneakers didn't stand out too much, but also did nothing except earn him a few sidelong, pitying glances. Overgrown hair and a dirt smudged face only increased the likelihood that muggles would look at him with a face full of sorrow or scorn.

Yes, the infamous Draco Malfoy was currently a homeless beggar on the streets of London.

 _By choice._ He reminded himself firmly, kicking at some trash. _I want to be on the streets._ He told that to himself constantly, but it never changed anything. He hated what his life had become. Despised himself for the choices he'd made. Living in muggle London was just a pittance of the price he should have to pay, and he'd done it all on his own. Without coercion or suggestion.

He wanted to separate himself from his parents, sickened by both their choices and his own. Oh, he could come up with _reasons_ for his behavior growing up. It was all perfectly justified. He knew no better than to assume that muggleborns were less than he was by birth. After all, he'd spent eleven years in the elite social circle of the pureblood wizards with absolutely zero exposure to his muggle counterparts. He had believed with perfect conviction that his father would never lie to him. First year, at least, could be explained away.

By second year, his excuse was his desire to be the son his father always wanted—a little carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy. Lots of people look up to their fathers, right? So the Granger swot was disproving the muggles-are-stupid theory, but surely they were still worthless. Why else would his father tell him so on a daily basis? His father didn't lie!

By third year, his excuses were something less than real reasons. Hindsight could not grant him the peace of justification. It was habit that kept him biting at Potter, Weasel, and Granger. Potter! Constantly stealing the spotlight. Everyone loved him or hated him, but they _knew_ him. They respected him—something Draco had never been able to accomplish. He knew even then—after Granger punched him—that she wasn't the worthless piece of trash his father thought she was. She was her own woman; strong, brave, and unfailingly loyal.

He _could_ have changed in fourth year, and had actually been mulling over the idea. But he'd been so torn with jealousy and resentment. If Potter had simply not put his name in the Goblet of Fire, then he would have changed. Gah, but then Potter had the gall to be a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament. _Again_ the-brat-that-wouldn't-just-die stole the spotlight. And damn it if the scarhead didn't just blow away the world while he was at it!

And after that, the option of change was taken away. Or at least Draco thought it was. With Voldemort firmly back in the living, the Malfoy family tried to re-take its place at his right hand. It worked…until Harry Potter made a fool of his father. Then Draco saw the side of his 'master' that the rest of the world saw, and suddenly being Dark wasn't so cool. But he couldn't let anyone know! Oh, no, he had to be the proud pureblood son of a Death Eater and hold up his end. He had to scoff at Dumbledore's quiet advances; spit at the most powerful man he'd ever know; sneer at the one man he looked up to more than his father.

And then… The terrible order. The pain of betrayal. _Kill him_. The Dark Lord had said. _A boy of your outstanding talent, in the heart of his kingdom should have no trouble. I expect Dumbledore to be dead by year's end._ Hell, at that point, he _envied_ Harry Potter. Potter could choose his own fate. _He_ could fight for what he knew was right while Draco was busy trying to do something he would regret for the rest of his life.

He'd never managed to properly thank Severus Snape for stepping up and killing Dumbledore in his stead. It was with muted shock and horror he'd watched Dumbledore fall. The moment still haunted his dreams. His mother, at least, saw reason. _She_ didn't want to side with the Dark Lord…there was just no way out. Once you're in, there's no way out but death.

Death had been a rather pleasant prospect, especially if Harry-damn-it-all-Potter failed at his job. Merlin be thanked that the stupid boy-who-just-would- _not_ -die managed to turn Voldemort's curse against him. And suddenly the world seemed so much brighter. Oh the Malfoy family was utterly ruined, but he was _free_. No more doing Merlin-knows-what because his mother would die if he failed. No more mindlessly pleasing his father. Draco was free to be his own man—an image that needed a drastic overhaul.

His father was facing a lifetime in Azkaban. His mother was talking about divorce. His father was loudly complaining about the death of his master. His mother was contemplating what expensive gift would suit Harry Potter, savior of the damn world the best. His father was bound and determined to finish what Voldemort started. His mother moved out of the Manor. His father was convinced that Draco would be the next Dark Lord.

Draco refused. He was summarily beaten and disowned. Draco moved out and had been living on the streets ever since. _How far the mighty fall._

It was bitter satisfaction guiding his life right now. He'd finally, _finally_ broken away from the influence of his father. He was finally living in a place where his name meant nothing to the people living around him. He could walk among the muggles with none of them the wiser to his true nature. To the real meaning behind the tattoo on his arm. Soon, he'd have to figure out how to integrate himself into their lives rather than simply share space. He had none of his fortune at his disposal. He couldn't purchase food with air or wit, and theft was not a part of the Draco Malfoy he wanted to invent. He settled on a bench, watching the muggles zoom by in their crazy contraptions through cool silver eyes.

All seventh year students were being invited back to Hogwarts to retake the year under better supervision. They weren't going to be given a fancy title, but for whichever students wanted to return, proper accommodations would be made so that they could take their NEWTS and get a diploma. Going back was an option. He'd be worshiped in his own House. Hated and feared by all the others. He'd be the same Draco Malfoy he'd always been.

Going back wasn't an option at all.

Never mind that Draco didn't know the first thing about muggles or how to live as a muggle. He'd made it so far, scraping by a meager living, but he knew better than to think this could last. How to get a job without a home? How to fill out an application when he was essentially unschooled? How to fit in at his age knowing nothing about the 'magic' of muggles? He sat back with a sigh. _As bad as the street is, I'd take this over the Manor any day!_

* * *

Unbeknownst to Draco Malfoy, he was being watched. When she first caught sight of the blond man on the street, she'd been struck by the handsomeness of his face. She'd spent several minutes just gaping at him in silent wonder. Drooling. She hadn't noticed anything else. She'd fled into her bookshop and hadn't looked back out the window lest he catch her ogling.

But she'd seen him again. And then again. Always sitting on the bus bench watching the traffic zooming by. Never once did he get on the bus when it stopped, though she always expected him to. She took to watching for him, noting the time of day he came by. It was always the same time. Always in the same clothes.

It took her a week to decide that he was homeless. He must be! Or certainly he was unemployed at the very least. She wondered if he was a thief. Or some form of criminal. She'd gotten herself paranoid about him, concocting all sorts of crazy stories about his life and motive for sitting out there on the bus bench. One day he was a murderer. The next, he was a rapist. Then she thought maybe he had some sort of mental disease. Sociopath. Psychopath. It fed into her former fears.

But the man never did anything outwardly terrible. He sat on his bench, looking at nothing in particular. He smiled when people smiled at him. He spoke to the handful of people who bothered to initiate a conversation. He seemed perfectly pleasant. Her fears were unjustified. He was a perfectly normal—exceptionally handsome—homeless man.

He needed help.

So she steeled her nerves one day to walk across the street. She rarely left the bookshop and the apartment she had above it. She didn't like leaving the comfort of familiarity. But he was just across the street. What could happen? She didn't let herself think too hard on what might happen. Plenty of bad things could happen! She was a nervous wreck. She walked right past his bench without pausing. Once. Twice. Three times.

 _Damn it woman!_

"Hello." She blurted like a complete fool.

"Hi." He answered with a slight smile. His gaze touched on her briefly before returning to the traffic. She stared at him, frozen with shock.

"Is that it?"

"Huh?" He started slightly, swiveling to face her.

"Is that all you're going to say?" She demanded.

"Er…nice weather we've been having." He turned from her again, blinking like _she_ was the crazy one. Her face was hot with embarrassment.

"I own the bookshop across the street."

"I've seen you." His simple statement re-woke her paranoia.

"Why are you always sitting out here?" She demanded breathlessly. "Are you stalking me?"

"What?" He jerked around to stare, face twisted with confusion. "Of course not! I don't even know you!"

"Well you could very well be…" _Stop speaking!_ She choked off before she could accuse a perfect stranger of being a murderer.

"I don't even know you." He repeated.

"You sit on this bus bench every day from ten to two." She crossed her arms defiantly. "What am I supposed to think?"

"I'm homeless." He said dryly. "I've nothing better to do than sit here. I didn't realize it was such a bother to you."

"I'm sorry."

"You have issues."

"I know." She admitted bitterly. "I've six different diagnoses."

"Sounds rough." He shrugged loosely.

"Paranoia's a problem of mine."

"Never would've guessed."

"I didn't mean to be rude." She tried to say, blushing again. "I only meant to say hi."

"Hello." His mouth quirked in a smile. "I'd ask your name, but I think you'd have me arrested. My name's Draco."

"That's a weird name." _Damn it._

"So it is." He shrugged. "I don't have another."

"Last name?"

"Malfoy."

"Huh. Never heard of you."

"Good." His eyes were almost silver. His expression said that she amused him. She shifted in place uncomfortably.

"Do you want a job or not?"

"I'd like a job." He nodded slowly. "But I don't know much."

"Can you read?"

"Yes."

"Then you're hired."

"Didn't you say you were paranoid?" He demanded, scowling.

"Only when it counts." She grinned, turning on her heel to retreat across the street. "Come on Draco."

"I will never understand muggles." He muttered under his breath.

"Then thank your stars my sister is a witch, and I know all about magic already." She shot a wicked grin at him, enjoying the shock that played out on his face. "I'll make a muggle of you yet, Draco Malfoy."

"You know what, I think I'd like that."


End file.
